


Rituals: Hair and Heart

by brandedwithfire



Series: Rituals [1]
Category: Spartacus Series (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-10
Updated: 2012-11-10
Packaged: 2017-11-18 08:47:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/559079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brandedwithfire/pseuds/brandedwithfire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p></p><div class="center">
  <p> <img/></p>
</div>For Agron running his hands through Nasir’s hair was a ritual, one of the only things that he truly believed in. It was real, as real as each breath he took or the sun shining above. Having the long dark strands of Nasir’s soft hair running past each calloused finger reminded Agron that they were alive.
            </blockquote>





	Rituals: Hair and Heart

**Author's Note:**

> As always I want to thank gaygreekgladiator for your encouragement, support and guidance <3
> 
> I'd also like to thank onlymywishfulthinking and marcelareads for their pushing and prodding me to write this! <3

It was like a religion, a ritual that Agron would go through every night before he closed his eyes. He would wait until the small room they shared fell silent and he could hear nothing but the relaxed rhythmic breathing coming from Nasir which meant the other had fallen to slumber. He would then quietly as possible raise a calloused hand always careful not to wake Nasir as he moved. Long blood-stained fingers would then curl into the ever soft strands of Nasir's hair and slowly brush through the dark locks.

For Agron running his hands through Nasir’s hair was a ritual, one of the only things that he truly believed in. It was real, as real as each breath he took or the sun shining above. Having the long dark strands of Nasir’s soft hair running past each calloused finger reminded Agron that they were alive. That at least for the here and now Nasir was here with him. They were together. Tomorrow all could change. Tomorrow one of them could be cut down, life ripped away with the thrust of a blade, but now in this moment they were together. 

Nasir was his heart, the air that he breathed, the reason he fought so damned hard. He would risk all to see just one glimpse of the other’s smile; face a legion of Roman bastards with a rusty blunt sword just to hear his name once more whispered upon Nasir’s thick lips. It had been for Duro, to fight and cut and risk life but now with Nasir by his side it was all important to see the other safe and alive. Of course he cared for the others, for Spartacus and Naevia, Saxa and Lugo and even that bastard Crixus (not that he would ever put voice to such thought) but none compared to Nasir. Nasir was his heart; the only one that could tame the fire when it raged within his chest. Nasir was his all and he would risk even more to see him to safety. 

For Agron that was what all of this was truly about, each battle, each thrust of his blade that robbed men of their lives; it was to see Nasir safe. To know that no longer would he have to hide or crawl across mud and dirt upon his belly for fear of being captured and tortured. Agron would see him free from such thoughts as the horrors of the mines or the endlessness of slavery. He would give him freedom, to know that each breath Nasir drew into his lungs was done as a free man far away from captivity and slavery. 

With a sigh Agron watched as the dark strands tumbled through each finger falling lightly back to place around Nasir’s head as it rested upon his chest. One day the world might break and they would fall, one by one onto the blood and dirt of the battlefield but not here, not now. Now Agron would shut the world out, cast all thoughts aside and continue to run his hand through Nasir’s soft hair, breathing him in as though he were the only man left alive. Nasir was his and all that mattered was the now. 

**

It was the same thing every night that they could steal a quiet moment alone together. Body sweaty and exhausted yet feeling more alive than ever Nasir would curl up against Agron’s and savour his warmth. He would place his head upon Agron’s chest and listen to the rhythmic sound of his heartbeat drumming in his ear. As he closed his eyes and shut out the world all Nasir knew was the beat of his lover’s heart and the feel of Agron’s hand playing with his hair. It would start slowly and not until Nasir was almost asleep, his breathing even and steady. Then as though almost tentative, a side of Agron that only Nasir saw, he would feel a hand upon his hair, a light touch pulling at his locks.

Every night was the same. When slumber was close and the room quiet Agron would run his hand through Nasir’s hair. Slowly at first and then a little firmer, the same repetitive motion starting at Nasir’s scalp and then running right down the length of his hair. Sometimes he would feel his hair fall back around his shoulders, other times he knew it would fall upon Agron’s bare chest and shoulder. Yet it was always the same each night.

Often Nasir would wonder why Agron would do such a thing, an action seeming far too gentle for a man who could kill with one thrust of his steel blade. Once, one stormy night Nasir parted his lips to ask but just as quickly closed them not wanting to ruin the moment. Whatever Agron’s reasoning it was important to him, like a ritual that somehow he could not live without. And if it was of such importance to Agron Nasir would never complain. 

Besides it was moments such as these that Nasir savoured most. The quiet moments in the darkness of the room they shared; body exhausted from such delights as he had never knew he could have felt before Agron came into his life. It was in these moments that Nasir would practice a ritual of his own, if he were to call it that. It was his own practice to place head upon Agron’s chest, to press his ear to heated skin and listen to the drumming of his lover’s heart. A heart that he knew beat only for him, just as his beat for none but Agron. 

Like a drum beating out life Nasir would fall asleep with the rhythmic sound flooding mind and body, a sound that he would carry with him to the battle field. He would do anything to hear that strong beating again. To know Agron was alive and well. He would wield sword stronger and faster, harder and with more force each battle he faced to ensure that Agron’s heart would continue to beat. For if it ever stopped Nasir knew his own life would close. As though the pulse of his own heart was tied so intricately with Agron’s that if one were to stop then the other would surely end. 

Perhaps in some small way he and Agron both had their own rituals. For the German it was to touch Nasir’s hair, to run his hands through the dark locks and to savour the here and now. For Nasir it was to memorize the beat of Agron’s heart, to hear it so strong and loud that no amount of fear or worry would dampen such a noise. They were together in the quietness of their room each one undertaking their own private ritual yet rituals which in the light of day saw them joined them as one.


End file.
